Web Strung Puppets
by Kam I Am
Summary: A four way gang war has erupted into the streets of New York. Caught in the middle is the cities' most maligned vigilante - Spider-Man. Can he protect the city that despises him while juggling school, two jobs, and a blossoming relationship? All it takes is a click and a read to find out!


**Disclaimer: All properties are the rights of their respective owner. I'm writing purely as a fan of this character.**

**I**

Cool and unforgiving wind whipped its way through the early morning streets. Reverberating throughout a glass enclosed bus stop, it didn't take long for it's sole inhabitant to shiver and pull his worn out sweatshirt tighter to his body.

While still only early September, Autumn had most definitely fallen upon the city of New York. With it came buckets of rain, a new football season, and (with the immense displeasure of young adults everywhere) another school year.

The brunt of this new season had made itself known in the last week alone. The Jets had lost a heartbreaker in overtime, storm clouds continued their glooming vigil high above, and the awkwardness of another "Student Orientation Day" emanated throughout Midtown High School. Fortunately, it was not an overly long process. By some miracle the school had scheduled the Orientation on a Friday, leaving students a small weekend grace period to count their blessings and attempt to enjoy what freedom they had left before the deluge of another eight month academic term.

That small pleasure had come and gone, however. Now all that stood between eighteen year old Peter Parker and Senior Year was the school bus that would be arriving any minute. Shifting his deceivingly small frame upwards off the bus-stop bench, Peter let out a heavy sigh of resignation.

Hands found their way into the pockets of his green sweatshirt; fingers fumbling their way around a growing tear in the fabric and towards his MP3 Player. Sliding through the list of ("only mostly") pirated songs, his thumb quickly came upon the shuffle button. The device's small readout came to life and read:

_**Wishing Well **__by__** The Airborne Toxic Event**_

A short guitar intro filled his ears, giving way to an eerie lyrical parallel on his current location, but it was not this that he chose to focus his attention on. Instead, it was the title of the song itself.

_A Wishing Well…_

In a lot of ways Peter considered himself a realist, well as much a realist as a spider-power gifted teenager could reasonably be. He knew that chucking his loose change at a watering hole couldn't possibly fix his problems, but still... There were a lot of wishes he would make if it did.

For one, he'd have probably brought the jacket that _didn't_ have a gaping hole in its pocket, but more importantly, he'd also wish away the pile of debt letters that loomed menacingly on Aunt May's kitchen table. Finances at the Parker residence were at an all-time low. In the wake of Uncle Ben's death a year prior Peter and his aunt had both been left without a loved one as well as a breadwinner.

The duo remained strong in the face of hardship. Aunt May quickly found work at the local library. Peter's job search had taken a bit longer, but he had finally located a job that made good use of his "special skillset" – freelance photography work at the Daily Bugle.

_Incriminating my alter ego one photograph at a time…_

There was always some good in his life to counteract the bad. Best friend Eddie Brock always kept him in good spirits, and also managed to use his rep with the football team to keep Flash Thompson off Peter's back… For the most part. Then there was the science club – or as he more aptly referred to it the "Facetime-With-Knockout-Beauty-Gwen-Stacy Club", FWKBGSC for short.

Then there was the _other_ thing. The aforementioned "alter ego". The gift and curse all wrapped into one. The thing that had caused his grades a fair amount of grief and was crippling any attempt he made at an active social life.

_Speaking of that gift-curse…_

Spider heightened senses perked up at the sound of wailing sirens from police cruisers two block away, a hijacked car swerving between lanes, attempting to escape it's pursuers.

Peter jolted, a bundle of adrenaline and learned responsibility shooting through his frigid veins. He gazed towards the corner his school bus would be soon be rounding, then down towards his watch.

_**7:37**_

His eyes darted upwards again, in the general direction the hijacker would soon be escaping two blocks away. He gave one last reluctant glance back at where the bus _should_'_ve _been. Pushing back disheveled locks of brown hair, he let loose another sigh.

"Screw it."

* * *

><p>Of all the powers Peter wished the radioactive spider had gifted him with, speed changing topped the list. Bounding on one leg in a darkened alleyway, it took more than one attempt to nimble his legs out of their jean entrapped prison.<p>

Soon enough however, denim gave way to spandex.

Unzipping his textbook-laden school bag, Peter dug past fresh notebooks and around cases of mechanical pencils. He quickly came upon the sought after items – a pair of gloves with accompanying mask.

* * *

><p>Flinging one's body over a five story building and into the bustling traffic of a New York morning would seem certifiably suicidal to most, surely well beyond the realm of hope, but for the fully suited Spider-Man the action came fluidly and without hesitation. Goo-filled contraptions strapped to either one of his wrists made sure of that.<p>

Just moments away from a permanent meeting with the pavement a _**"thwip!"**_ noise pinged itself into existence, bringing forth with it a line of webbing that clung itself firmly against an adjacent building's scaffolding. With a firm grip on the growing cord of web infused fibers, Spider-Man brought his knees tight against his chest, his entire body veering threateningly close to incoming traffic. Right when the line appeared to be extending itself directly into the ground, the Web-Slinger released his two-finger grip on the device's push button, and was left to use his momentum to swing himself forward. Pulling tight on the line he let forth a joy-filled _"woohoo!" _one that traveled with him all the way to the top of his swinging arc. From there he relinquished ownership of the thread, and quickly went to work, repeating the process, gaining height and speed with each web-swing.

It all came so naturally. Even though they were artificial, the devices – dubbed "web-shooters" - felt like extensions of his body. While his wall-crawling ability generated the idea, it was his web-shooters that truly allowed him to proclaim himself a Spider.

But the time to argue semantics had come and gone, his only goal now was to catch his speeding assailant, hopefully earning some brownie points with a police force that had labeled him a "vigilante", "threat to society", and "no-good-Neanderthallic-cretin".

_Actually, scratch that last one. Pretty sure that's only Jolly Jonah…_

Shaking the thought of the cigar-toting anger case out of his mind, he did a mid-air twist that cut his hang time in half. In response to this, gravity kicked itself into overdrive and sent his rippling suit hurtling down to the nearest building top.

Neon shoe-laced black Nike's collided with it's dewy surface, legs absorbing an impact that would've shattered any normal man's kneecaps. Taking it all in stride the hero was already charging forth, hurtling over the other side's safety railing and back into the maws of rush-hour. In a span of two seconds he expertly angled his body at the ceiling-top of an aging Chevy Malibu, one that was slipping between lanes of incoming and outgoing traffic and had the full attention of two cars full of New York's finest.

_**Plop!**_

Clinging to the Malibu's surface with his full body, Spider-Man hastily peered his head over the side. Knocking on the driver's side window, he offered a wave and a series of far more humorous gestures to indicate that it was time to pullover, but the driver simply gave a snarl in return and quickly returned his attention to the traffic in front of him.

_Going to have to do this the hard way then…_

Bending over backwards in a yoga-like pose he drove his torpedo strong fist through the vehicle's rear-side window, shattering it upon impact. In the next moment, he was swooping through the newly made opening and found himself landing on the middle of the car's three back end seats.

"All right buddy, I get it, sign-language isn't really your thing – see, what I was _trying_ to say was that –"

The cocking of a pistol directly in his face stopped him short.

"Aw, not the gun, why's it always gotta be the gun with you guys?"

With the driver's finger inches away from the trigger Spider-Man didn't have anymore time to complain, quickly jumping forth into action he caught his hand around the man's forearm and with a quick show of force brought it – and the pistol as a result – aiming upwards at the ceiling. A yelp of pain emitted from the attacker was followed by a discharged bullet, one that pierced and shattered the car's sunroof above.

"Ha! Have fun explaining that one to your car insurer!"

Now minus the pistol barrel pointed directly between his eyes, Spider-Man was more clearly able to take in his adversary's face. A gray buzz of hair gave way to literal snow white skin, far beyond the paleness of any normal person. If it weren't for the driver's freshly pressed tuxedo Peter would assume the man before him to be some sort of apparition.

_This guy's the closest thing I've ever seen to a walking __**Tombstone**__…_

Spider-Man didn't have much longer to marvel however, his hand was still awkwardly wrapped around the opposer's gun-wielding arm. Both combatants seemingly became aware of this at the exact same moment, beginning a struggle for possession of the weapon, one that lasted far too long.

_Heck of a lot stronger than he looks… _

Ultimately, his Spider-strength got him the win, but not without a cost. He had been pulling hard enough on the gun that upon his adversary's release the weapon went crashing into the car's dashboard. The passenger glovebox came lurching open in response launching crumpled receipts, expired insurance cards, and a strange bag emblemed several times with Oscorp Logos, clattering down to the ground below.

"Look at the mess you've made now!"

Rather it was the latter discovery or the fact that Spider-Man had near completely trashed the car, Peter didn't know, all he _did_ know was that one of his actions had infuriated the dare-devilling driver enough for him to send the vehicle reeling off the side of an inclining freeway and down to the street some two stories below.

"Easy, _easy!_ Gosh, it's like you expect me to quip _and_ drive."

While trying to remain humorous, it was fair to say that the hero was feeling more frightened than comical. It wasn't every day that the Web-Head met a crook who wanted to get away from the cops _this_ badly – and the driver had been clearly successful at that, leaving his two blue uniformed pursuers back up on the freeway, mouths agape in shock. Deciding it was time for him to do something he should have done upon entering the vehicle, Peter pinned the driver to his seat with a splurt of webbing. This immobilized both of his opponent's hands and allowed him to take control of the Malibu.

"There! Now let's take this – hey! _HEY_!"

Leaning over from the passenger seat with both hands on the wheel, it only then dawned on him that he didn't have control of the braking nor accelerating power of the automobile – those rights remained with the otherwise web-tied driver, who was busily taking full advantage of them. The car was following the same pattern as before – darting back and forth between lanes - only this time without a licensed driver captaining the vessel. Knowing a recipe for disaster when he saw one, Peter was left with no other choice.

"You're going to be glad that webbing's got you strapped in!"

That interjection was followed by a break neck turn, one that would have demanded the full strength of any normal being, but required only the use of one hand on the steering wheel of this spider-bitten man, the other hand – more fittingly – was used to hold on for dear life. The twist in direction sent the depreciating Malibu scorching through a tight backstreet, a dim gleam at the other end providing the only source of light for the duo. "Tightness" in the alleyway had less to do with enclosing walls than it did various garbage cans and shopping carts littered throughout – items that the car's driver took on with little regard for safety.

Finally they came whipping out the other side, leading out into a rectangular expanse of concrete. A sign somewhere overhead read: _**Caranise Pier, **_a body of nearby Atlantic water confirming the declaration.

"No, no, no! This is the part where you _slow down_."

Instructions fell on seemingly deaf ears. The vehicle was still shooting forward, oblivious to the oceanic danger that lay but meters away now. Peter swerved the car up and down the empty dock, giving his all to keep the automobile from pouring into the waters below.

Ultimately, it was done in vain. In the span of a moment the car took out a safety railing and found itself completely emerged in the depths of a foamy green concoction.

While one passenger was still in a bout of shock at the turn of events, the other was busily making his escape. Peter twisted his head just in time to spy the crook already attempting crawling out of the top of the shattered sun roof. This didn't surprise him one bit, what did surprise him was how his captive had so quickly escaped his web-confined prison… Until the obvious reared it's ugly head upon him.

_Water soluble webbing… Crap._

It was only a temporary loss however, Spider-Man knew he would just have to bust open his side of the Malibu and swim after a catch that was likely much slower than he was. The first phase of this plan was completed in a matter of seconds; it was the second phase that would prove to give him trouble.

Holding an intake of air that was now several seconds old, he quickly propelled himself out of the vehicle. Glimmers of light teased the surface some ten meters above, and also gave Peter a small insight as to where his foe could potentially be. Catching sight of a darkened bodily shape his Spider-enhanced legs sent a kick that allowed him to cut through the water like a rocket.

Covering Olympic-sized meters in seconds, the black tuxedo clad man was in for a world of hurt – or so Spider-Man thought. Instead, the ghost-like figure managed to reach surface level, where a speedboay lay in wait with a driver in tow. As the foe pulled himself on to the small vessel Spider-Man followed but a second away, his grasp close enough to almost feel the sense of fear radiating from his chase. This closeness didn't last long, the speedboat already beginning to skirt the coastal seas as the hero reached surface level.

_Well this sucks…_

Soon enough the teenager was staring glumly at their impossibly far away figures, left to tread water cold, alone, and very frustrated. A million questions boggled his mind, mainly how his foe had organized transport by speedboat… Had this chase been somehow planned? And then there were the Oscorp Logos, or more specifically, the carry-on bag plastered with them, what kind of business could a deathly figure like that be having with them? But as a nearby clocktower struck its _**8:00 AM**_ hourly chime these thoughts were flung from his mind.

He didn't have a wishing well around, or some loose change to make it legitimate, but if he did the only current wish he had would be to arrive at school on time... With a fresh set of clothes.

_**A/N: ****And thus ends what is hoped to be the first of many chapters to come. Rather you enjoyed this tale or think it a terrible grammatical mess (which it is), please let me know in a review down below. It would truly be appreciated!**_


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